Memoirs of a Greaser
by Tanith Lilitu
Summary: Ponyboy's thoughts after the events in the book. One-Shot, Spoilers


**Author: **Tanith Lilitu

**Disclaimer:** I own part of the plot, the part that's not in the book anywhere. All characters are property of S. E. Hinton and however else there is.

**Summary: **Ponyboy's thoughts after the events in the book. One-Shot

**Warnings: **Spoliers

**Rating: **K, G, whatever, same diff.

**Author Note: **After our class read 'The Outsiders', we had to write seven days worth of journal entries from Pony's point of view. Please read and review, feedback is very good!

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Memoirs of a Greaser  


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Tuesday, 31 May 1966_

I've never written a diary, or journal or notebook, or whatever you want to call it. But, I'll try my best to use this journal as much as I can. I found it underneath the bed in our room, it was lying around with all the other books down there. As you can see if you're reading this, it's just an old dirty looking book, no one would think it's got all my thoughts and feelings tucked away in it. I don't think anyone would think of a tough greaser to keep a diary anyways. This might help me to deal with what happened, I still can't bring myself to write it down, at that point he was ready to go I guess, and I'm sure where he is now is better, but all I can think of is the way he sorta, faded, and then, he was just… I can hear Darry coming upstairs to get me for dinner, I'd better put this away.

Wednesday, 1 June 1966

I'm went back to school today, Darry said I couldn't miss much more or I'd fail for sure. He wants me to go on to do better things with my life, he doesn't say it right out loud but I know he's thinkin' it. It's 'cause he always tells me to do my homework and go to school and get to bed and all that, now I know that's just Darry being Darry, he cares about me. Yesterday after Darry left, Soda came in and started goofing off. I used to wish that Darry was more funny and crazy like Soda, but know I see that they balance each other out. It would be nice to have everyone goofing around all the time, but I get enough of that with the gang and if it weren't for Darry, nothing would ever get done. An' we'd be on the street or something. Darry's gotten a lot better ever since everything that's happened, he's still rough without meaning to be, but it's gotten to be less often. It's getting late now, I'd better get to bed before everyone gets over here or I'll never get to sleep, they're all out at the drive-in right now.

_Friday, 3 June 1966_

Sorry, I haven't written in a couple of days. I don't know why I'm apoligizing, it just feels like I should for some reason. Darry's been making me work on that English composition all week. I think it's coming along nicely, it's good to get all that out of me and onto paper. It's really helping my recovery, the doc said he likes the effects, he read it and agreed that it was real good. Today I came home with my shoes on and most of my stuff, I only forgot one notebook, so the absent-mindedness (Is that even a word?) isn't quite as bad as before. Steve's still bugging me about that thing where I left my shoes at school, I wish he'd lay off. Now Two-Bit's joined in the "Let's see what Pony forgot" game that they've made of it. When I think about it I really have to laugh though. I just lifted up my mathematics notebook to find another sheet of mathematics work. I was hoping to go to bed but Darry'll be on my back if he see's I didn't finish my homework.

Tuesday, 7 June 1966

Mr.Syne read over my composistion this morning, he talked to me about getting it published, to make it into a real book. He said it has good emotion, but it might shock some people who don't deal with this sorta thing, he says he really likes it though. I think he means the death and violence in it would shock people, but that's what happened. Mr.Syne said he didn't know any of the people I wrote about all to well, but he feels like he did by the decriptions I gave of them. He said my writing made him feel like he was living with the characters in a way, sorta like the way I feel about movies. There's not really anything to say today, and I don't want to keep going on about myself, so I think I'll watch some television with Soda.

Thursday, 9 June 1966

Soda asked me to go to the drive-in with him and Steve tonight. Steve told him he didn't really want me tagging along, so Soda said if he didn't want me around then he didn't have to go. Steve got real mad about Soda saying that to him, and asked why he hung around with his kid brother more than his best friend. Soda started hollering at him and told Steve to cut me some slack after all I'd been through. Lordy, I've never heard Soda and Steve holler at each other before. They'd had little fights, but nothing like this. I don't like Steve, but I feel real bad for making Soda and him fight. They've been best buddies since grade school, and I'd hate myself if they stopped because of me. Soda's starting up the truck, I'd better go before he leaves me behind. Darry doesn't let me go out on school nights usually, so this is rare, I don't want to waste it. Not that I'll really enjoy it that much anyways.

Saturday, 11 June 1966

It's Saturday and they're still fighting with each other, actually they're ignoring each other. They had the fight on Thursday evening and since then, one or the other has gotten their shifts changed at the DX so that they work opposite shifts. Steve hasn't been by the house much, whenever he does, it's to see if Two-Bit's here and then leave with if he's not. I told Soda how bad I feel, and he said not to worry about it, that they were bound to have a fight once in a while. He told me they just need some time away from each other. I was gonna find Steve and hear how he felt about this, but I saw him glaring at me and got yellow. Steve is even more angry at me than usual 'cause of Thursday, but this time I don't blame him. Why should I? It's not his fault Soda wanted me along, but then it's not mine either. I feel guilty but why? What did I do? I can't write anymore, Two-Bit's wrestling with Darry and they keep knocking into my chair. I'm sitting at the kitchen table. They just hit me again, that's it.

Sunday, 12 June 1966

After dinner yesterday, we went out to play football, and I now have a black eye from a throw from Steve. I think he threw it at my face that hard on purpose. I wish him and Soda would just make up already. I think I'll be one giant bruise soon if they don't. On the upside, my hair's growing in nicely, you can't see it too well but about half an inch of my tuff old reddish-brown is peeking through the bleached blonde. I can't believe that it's been about a month since Johnny killed that Soc, and almost a month since Johnny and Dally died. Now I can actually write about it and it doesn't bother me as much. I don't know if I'll ever really get over it completely, but I'm on my way there. Here comes Soda, it looks like he and Steve are buddies again, he just asked me to play football with them. Yep, everything's gonna be alright.

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**A/N: **R&R! Well, review, if you're here, you've already read. 


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